


Halfway Home

by orphan_account



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU, DCU (Comics), Red Robin (Comics)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bruce Wayne C+ Parenting, Bruce Wayne is Batman, Emotional Hurt, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotions, Gen, Sad Tim Drake, Tim Drake Needs a Hug, Tim Drake is Red Robin, Tim Drake-centric, whumpy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-03
Updated: 2020-03-03
Packaged: 2021-02-23 05:54:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23006761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Tim Drake can't catch a break, when all he wants to do is catch up with Bruce for hot chocolate.
Relationships: No Romantic Relationship(s), Tim Drake & Bruce Wayne
Comments: 47
Kudos: 545





	Halfway Home

**Author's Note:**

> Made myself cry at midnight again. You've been forewarned. Angst with a Happy Ending though.

Tim's toes are frozen. Snow has made it into his shoes and is proceeding to melt through his socks, leaving his feet a combination of wet and cold. It's one of those unfortunate, but unavoidable circumstances in life that could be _just_ enough to tip someone over the line from _Bad Day_ to _Horrible Day._ The universe certainly seems to be conspiring against him, but then again when has the universe ever done him any favours?

Today was the day he meant to meet up with Bruce.

The two of them had made plans to visit a new chocolatier―the shop had only just moved in only a few months ago. Tim had passed it a few times already, but he'd yet to go in. It was perfect for wintry days like today. They did a range of hot chocolates and Tim longed to try their _Raspberry Delight_ or their _Vienna_ or their _Salted Caramel,_ which Dick had claimed to be most marvellous.

It had come as much more than just a surprise when Bruce had quietly suggested that just the two of them visit―more like it had frozen Tim in place for a good fifteen seconds whilst he double checked that, no, this Bruce didn't _appear_ to be a hallucination.

Bruce hadn't asked him to do anything just the two of them outside of costume in… well, it had been so long that he's not even sure anymore.

Bruce tries to make time for each of his children, Tim knows that _logically_ , but often he's left feeling like last pick.

Dick is loud. His presence is flashy, attention grabbing and he takes up most of the spotlight wherever it is cast.

Jason is volatile. Maybe unintentionally he takes up much of Bruce's time because the man is left doing a bad job of emotional damage control.

Cass is quiet. She and Bruce are the most alike, so Tim knows that when Bruce gets the chance to spend time with Cass, he takes it.

And Damian is young. Whatever time with Bruce is left over, Damian seizes upon it like a starving vulture in the savannah.

Tim always feels as though he is patiently waiting for his turn, but it rarely comes.

Then again, he isn't Dick or Jason or Cass or Damian. Tim doesn't require the spotlight or picking up after, nor is he the best choice or the most opportunistic―he can manage just fine on his own, he has until now, after all. Tim knows how to stay out the way, how to remain unheard and unseen until required, he knows how to plaster on a fake smile and reassure people that he is doing well. Janet Drake taught him well and she taught him how to stay out from underfoot.

Tim doesn't really need anybody looking out for him, he was doing that for himself at six years old. It's not like he had it bad either. Tim doesn't get to complain, he doesn't get that right. Tim never had to watch his parents being brutally murdered at eight years old, nor had he lived homeless on the streets of Gotham, neither was he raised by assassins and trained from birth to kill. Tim's trauma barely compares to that of his siblings, so he doesn't get the right to complain.

It's just… a _shame_. The one day Bruce manages to make time for _him_ and him alone, the subway is shut down due to ice on the line.

It's fine though, really. Even if he sprints, he'll never make it in time for hot chocolates. Bruce is busy this time of year, after all. It's not like he can be waiting around for Tim, he doesn't have all day. Even if, by some miracle, he made it to the cafe and Bruce still happened to be there, Tim knows how it'll go― _he'll apologise for being late and Bruce will tell him it's fine with that little frown between his brow which means it really isn't. They'll order hot chocolates and Tim will start babbling away like he always does when he gets Bruce alone, so obviously desperate and hungry for the man's attention that it's practically pitiful. Then, just as their drinks come, Bruce will get a phone call citing some emergency or another. Bruce will make it through one mouthful of his hot chocolate, he'll finish his call, he'll look up at Tim with that polite regret in his eyes, the type that means he's maybe only halfway genuinely sorry, and he'll say, “Sorry, Tim. Something came up. Rain-check?” And Tim will feel like an idiot and mumble, “Sure, that's fine, B,” while feeling utterly stupid for getting his hopes up. Then Bruce will give him that polite smile_ _and leave Tim sitting there on his own, trying his damnedest to work up the energy to go back home to his apartment whilst wondering why he thought this time would be any different._

Last time Bruce and he were supposed to meet up, it had been spring. After one too many disappointing brunches and cancelled dinners, Tim had taken the time to ensure everything would go to plan. Two weeks in advance he had booked them a table for seven at the fancy Phở place down by Harlow Park. After calling around twice to make sure none of his siblings would be needing Bruce for anything that day, and then making sure none of them were risking their butts on a mission, he'd cleared his calendar and asked Alfred to do the same for Bruce.

Maybe he had set his expectations too high, or perhaps it was simply because he stupidly thought that everything would go smoothly this time.

Tim had arrived early, eager, mentally picking out his meal and his drink beforehand. Fifteen minutes had passed and, sue him, he couldn't stop himself from checking his watch every five minutes―he'd been _excited_. Then fifteen more minutes had passed. _Five more minutes_ , he had kept telling himself as the energy and excitement slowly drained out of his body, as though coming to a realisation his mind refused to admit. _He'll be here soon._

An hour and a half had gone by before he'd been forced to admit it: Bruce wasn't coming.

Defeated, he'd left some cash for the wait-staff anyway and started the journey home, desperately holding back his tears to the tune of Janet Drake's voice echoing in his head, _“Drake men do NOT cry_.”

At some point he'd thought it a good idea to call the manor, if only to figure out what it was that had gone wrong this time. It had been Alfred who had picked up.

“ _Wayne residence.”_

“ _Hey Alf, it's just me.”_

“ _Ah, Master Tim. What do we owe the pleasure?”_

“ _I was just wondering if Bruce was there?”_

“ _Yes, Master Bruce is currently occupied with Titus, Master Damian's dog. Poor creature has been suffering all day, throwing up everywhere. Master Damian has been quite distraught over it.”_

“ _O–oh. I see. Thanks Alfred. That… that was all. Bye.”_

“ _Very good, have a pleasant evening, Master Tim.”_

The shock had run through his bones leaving only numbness in its wake. Tim had thought himself bleeding out for a good moment before he came back to himself and took several deep breaths to steady himself.

Bruce had missed their engagement for _Titus_.

Tim felt bad for the dog, but somehow he couldn't help but feel sorrier for himself―he ranked even below Damian's dog. It had stung like a slap in the face, following which he just felt foolish for expecting anything anyway. All his carefully laid plans… they'd amounted to nothing in the end. All Tim had done was get himself all worked up just to let himself down. The hollow ache the incident had left in his chest had hurt like hell.

Tim had avoided the manor for a good two months afterward, promising himself that he'd never become so desperate as to feel so foolish for his expectations ever again.

When Tim had finally returned to the manor, Alfred had been the one sending out the invite. It became quickly apparent that Bruce hadn't felt his absence in the slightest, or if he did, he didn't show it.

So long as Red Robin still showed up to patrol and was there for back-up, what did Tim Drake matter?

With a deep sigh, Tim pulls out his phone from his red coat. In the cold air, his breath turns to mist with each exhalation as he scrolls through his list of contacts, eventually finding Bruce's name under _Wayne_.

 _Sorry, B._ He types out with frozen fingers. _Subway is out of commission today. I don't think I'm gonna make it._

Quickly, he sends it, shoving his cold hand back into his pocket along with his phone as he spins around and departs from the same subway entrance he came in.

That should do it. Bruce won't be left waiting around for an hour and a half wondering where he got to―Tim, at least, has the decency to let him know.

“There's always next year,” he mumbles to himself, breaching the entrance and stepping out into the cool, wintry light that somehow always makes Gotham feel more depressing than usual. It's not like he got to see Bruce much _this_ year, but, well, they both have better things they could be doing, he supposes.

Keeping a hand around his phone all the way home, Tim expects it to buzz with a reply. It doesn't. He arrives in the lobby of his apartment and pulls it out to check, the screen reading the same as usual. No missed calls. No messages. He bites back another sigh. He doesn't know why he does this to himself anymore, trust in Bruce to show up.

The problem Tim has is that he's a stupid, neglected pet. Show him affection _once_ , show him kindness _once_ , he'll continue to cling despite everything else. Tim knows it well enough, he just can't seem to change it. It's who he is.

The elevator opens wide and Tim steps inside, pressing the button for his floor before fishing into his pocket for his house keys.

It would be nice to catch up with Bruce, talk to him about the personal stuff Tim doesn't mention on patrol, but it hardly seems in the cards for him at this point. That's okay, he doesn't really need advice, he'll figure it out on his own. Like he always does.

Arriving back at his apartment, Tim unlocks his door and becomes immediately aware of another person sitting in his living room, legs crossed one over the other and reclining on his couch. Blinking to clear his vision, he drops his keys on the side table to his left before managing to connect his mouth to his brain.

“Bruce?”

The figure, dressed in a grey sweater and black trousers, stands and turns to greet him with a smile.

“Tim,” is all that he says, a statement with fondness in his eyes.

“What are you doing here?” he asks.

“I came to pick you up.”

“What?”

“I saw on the news about the subway and then I saw your text and decided to come pick you up instead.”

“You still want to go?” The words come out of Tim's mouth before he checks them for disbelief. They sound almost incredulous. Tim had thought... 

An expression he can't quite name comes over Bruce's face, but there is definitely both confusion and sadness present in it.

“Of course,” he says. “I feel like I haven't seen you all year. I've missed our dates. Something unimportant always seems to come up, but not this time. Today is just for you and me.”

Striding over, the man places both his hands on Tim's shoulders and his face melts into something warm and fond.

“You missed our dates?”

Tim feels like a broken record.

“I've missed _you._ ”

“Oh.”

Tim's not sure what it is that Bruce reads on his face, but whatever it is, it lends the man into pulling him in to a hug―which Tim can't help melting into. It's warm and comfortable and Bruce's arms around him make him feel safe in a way he rarely feels.

“I've missed you too,” he mumbles into Bruce's chest, holding on even tighter. “I've missed you too, Dad.”


End file.
